


Save My Soul

by TheFantabulousPandemonium



Series: (Got Me Where) You Want Me [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: (technically) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Crying During Sex, Dark Mark, Dark Newt Scamander, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Foreplay, Grindelwald Does What He Wants, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Legilimency, M/M, Manipulation, Marking, Misguided Newt Scamander, No Safe Word, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Praise Kink, Ruining Mr Graves' office one day at a time, Scars, Semi-Public Sex, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Wandless Magic, and that includes Newt, creatures before people amirite, dubiously consensual kink, scarfing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 10:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10852407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFantabulousPandemonium/pseuds/TheFantabulousPandemonium
Summary: “I amnotone of Grindelwald’s fanatics, Mr. Graves.” Scamander said, leaning towards him with an odd quirk of his head. His tone was colder than the environment the obscurus had been found in and he met Gellert’s eyes with an urgent sense of honesty.That small, unassuming action was more than enough to brush the man’s mind with Legilimency. Caught off-guard, he felt his brows rise in the closest thing he’d had to surprise since he’d set foot in America.Newt Scamander was lying to him.(now with bonus nsfw)





	1. The SFW

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt on the kink meme here: http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/459.html?thread=41419#cmt41419
> 
> how many times am i gonna rehash the interrogation scene? idk my dude (let's just pretend Tina has pickett and Queenie broke her and jacob out anyway)

The interrogation room is well-lit, the hum of a fan whirring in the background and everything he needed in easy reach. If there was one thing Gellert could appreciate about Percival Graves, it was that he took exceedingly good care, if a bit distantly, of his business. No matter how much Grindelwald enjoyed a hands-on approach, it only made it easy for him to assume the man’s identity. 

 

He leant back in the office chair, enjoying the feeling of power in his grasp before the prisoner was brought in.

 

Scamander - Newt Scamander, with his plethora of middle names he couldn’t bother remembering.

 

Albus had written about the boy, before everything went downhill with the war. He’d been _so very_  concerned when Newt was expelled and his wand snapped. But, then again, blood supremacy was all the rage in the islands and tilted the favour towards purebloods in every situation.

 

Gellert snorted, half tempted to put his feet up on the desk before him. But that wouldn’t do.

 

Not yet.

 

After the wayward Scamander and his little ex-Auror friend had been dealt with, he’d relax. Maybe grab a few little drinks at a speakeasy. That was, perhaps, the hardest part about this whole impersonation thing - he couldn’t find a good drink in this country for miles.

 

Someone knocked, then, quick and to the point. The door opened with a wave of his hand.

 

Scamander came quietly, looking very much like he’d rather be near the wrong head of a runespoor than anywhere in the vicinity. Goldstein was frog-marched in, defiant til the end. Execution would be a rather fitting end for her, Gellert mused, since the girl had been unrepentantly abrasive and headstrong since he had picked up this position.

 

He really didn’t know how Graves handled this mess of a department without murdering them all.

 

The interrogation didn’t even get interesting until he brought out the obscurus, the wild look in the prisoner’s eyes amusing and slightly disconcerting. Gellert pressed harder.

 

“I am _not_ one of Grindelwald’s fanatics, Mr. Graves.” Scamander said, leaning towards him with an odd quirk of his head. His tone was colder than the environment the obscurus had been found in and he met Gellert’s eyes with an urgent sense of honesty.

 

That small, unassuming action was more than enough to brush the man’s mind with Legilimency. Caught off-guard, he felt his brows rise in the closest thing he’d had to surprise since he’d set foot in America.

 

Newt Scamander was lying to him.

 

 _Lying_  to _Grindelwald._ You would think Europeans would have more sense about things like this.

 

He couldn’t help the pleased chuckle that spilt from his throat, not missing the confused looks spreading across the other occupants’ faces. Albus would be oh so _disappointed_ in the boy, it was no wonder he kept such a close eye on Newt. And Gellert was going to revel in it.

 

“Execute her.” He said, though not unkindly.

 

It was for everyone’s best interests if she was dealt with, really. The Auror behind Goldstein nodded, a flicker of unease on her face despite following orders. She nearly screamed, pleading to the room at large, and Gellert closed his eyes to enjoy it even more. Until, at least, the rustle of someone getting up in front of him caught his attention.

 

“Stay where you are, Mr. Scamander.” He murmured easily. Newt was still there when Grindelwald opened his eyes again, looking vaguely uncomfortable but in the chair, and he dismissed the other Auror before slamming the door shut behind them with a wave of his hand. Business completed, he let curiosity take over for a few moments.

 

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair and smiling in a way that was sure to distort his borrowed face. “a _fanatic_  of Grindelwald, you say?”

 

Scamander bristled.

 

“I’m not-!” He snapped, mouth shutting with an audible click when Gellert narrowed his eyes.

 

“Do not lie to me, Mr. Scamander.” Grindelwald kept his tone soft. Newt flinched, drawing into himself and rubbing at his wrist. “Did you not take Occlumency lessons as a child?”

 

Another flinch, this one more violent than the last. He didn’t meet Gellert’s eyes, nor did he answer the question. As it was rhetorical the older didn’t really expect an answer, but that was neither here nor there.

 

“Don’t you agree that we shouldn’t have to hide like this, sequestered away from muggles and no-maj’s like _cockroaches_ , Mr. Scamander?” Grindelwald murmured, leaning onto the desk with his elbows and clasping his hands together. Scamander chewed at his lip, shoulders hunched and his legs drawn up to his chest in a short time. “Don’t you agree that your creatures should be free to live in the open without fear of being hunted by both them and wizards?”

 

And there was the hook.

 

Newt focused on Gellert’s hands, wringing his own so tightly that it must have hurt. After a few more moments of silence, he prompted the younger again.

 

“All you have to do is say yes, Mr. Scamander. That it’s true they should be free to live as wizards should, with nothing to hold them back from seeking a better life for them and their young. Isn’t that important?”

 

“Yes.” Newt whispered, hoarse.

 

Grindelwald summoned a glass of water, shooing away the obscurus in the same motion, and pushed the glass toward the end of the desk, just enough out of reach that the redhead would have to get up to take a drink. And he did, drinking half the glass before sitting back on the very edge of his chair and still appearing rather ruffled and uncomfortable.

 

“I’m glad we agree.” Gellert said amiably, a hand coming to rest on the suitcase. Scamander was immediately focused on it with such a vicious intensity that he nearly retracted his hand. “You’ve been doing a good thing with the creatures in here, Mr. Scamander. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a healthier clutch of occamys in my entire career.”

He paused, meeting the other’s eyes and not missing the flush of bewildered pride across his cheeks.

 

“It’d be quite a shame if we had to kill them. Standard American policy, you see.”

 

Newt hissed wordlessly, the smile sliding off his face and sounding very much like one of the aforementioned occamys. Grindelwald grinned then, tipping his head slightly to the side before tapping the case in a slow, steady rhythm.

 

“Where is your mark?” He asked blithely. It was more an order than a question, the Scamander’s frown deepening. He opened his mouth to say something negative, only to have Gellert beat him to the point. “Don’t lie to me, Mr. Scamander. Where are you marked.”

 

Newt hesitated.

 

Grindelwald waited, the man’s nervous ticks playing out before him in the faint silence of the interrogation room. He was half-tempted to believe the other wasn’t going to give away incriminating evidence to the Director of Security, no matter who was behind the mask. Shame, that. Though, it would be much more fun to actually find it himself. Sighing, Gellert waved his hand as if to dismiss the demand he’d made.

 

“Fine, don’t tell me then.” He acquiesced. Leaning forward and catching Scamander’s eyes once more, Grindelwald narrowed his own. “But find Credence Barebone, with the Second Salemers. Find him, share his task, and you and your occamys walk away from America alive. Or fail it, and incur the wrath of both myself and your precious Grindelwald, Mr. Scamander. What do you say?”

 

More hesitation.

 

Newt chewed on his lip, rubbing a hand around his wrist like it was going to be removed at that very spot.

 

“Are you…?” He asked faintly, not even allowing himself to finish the thought. Or so it seemed. Gellert nearly rolled his eyes. If only his reputation didn’t depend on this body being irritatingly stoic.

 

Nodding in answer to the assumed question, Grindelwald tugged up his left sleeve, satisfaction rolling up his chest at the wide-eyed look and the slight awe a passing brush of Newt’s mind brought.

 

His own mark was there, burned into the delicate skin of his wrist for all to see.

 

Of course, it wasn’t actually marking his own appendage. No, that beautiful little symbol was the first thing Gellert had done to the actual Percival Graves. The memory was still fond. By the time the Director’s disappearance was even noticed, however, he planned to have the mark burned into the man’s very _soul._ Graves was his, and he would damn well remember it.

 

Scamander swallowed, his hands stilling with a determined look about the mouth before he tapped his thigh three times in rapid succession. Grindelwald raised a brow.

 

“Here.” He clarified. “My mark is here. And I’ll find him.”

 

And wasn’t that an interesting thing. Gellert didn’t even have to go searching for it, which was slightly disappointing, but it proved the younger Scamander was loyal to his cause or, at least, parts of his cause.

 

Instead of his plans being ruined like he’d originally thought during the ICW, Gellert had the sneaking suspicion that everything was about to go very, _very_ well.


	2. The NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wrote the other bit, then had a revelation and did this (whoops)

It was, in all honesty, rather easy to push Newt Scamander in the direction Gellert wanted him to go.

The younger had taken to Credence like an ashwinder to wood, tidying up any loose ends with the boy and his sister by actually knowing what he was talking about when it came to obscurials. It paid off having a Magizoologist at his disposal and he wasn’t about to let him or the Barebone children out of his grasp any time soon. And, if Grindelwald had rewarded him a bit more enthusiastically than he normally would, well, there was something to be said for positive reinforcement.

Scamander was just _so_ eager to please.

Percival Graves’ office was large and imposing when viewed from the doorway, a metal contraption with more than enough leg room and just high enough to let Newt sequester both himself and the damnable case underneath with no one the wiser. It was also tall enough to press his lips to the other’s knee without having to bend over the sprawled mess of a man making an even bigger mess of his paperwork.

Gellert rather liked it.

The desk, that was. Not the paperwork.

Newt was far past his usually rumpled appearance, coat scrunched into what looked to be a headrest and a trembling arm gripping the metal above his head like his life depended on it. He was, curiously, not wearing an undershirt, or any underclothes at all for that matter. Grindelwald’s mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that the younger must have planned this - or that he simply didn’t have time that morning.

No matter.

Gellert bent over the other anyway, wandlessly banishing the trousers and claiming a little patch of skin close to his collarbone. The red of the mark stood out against pale skin, quickly purpling with the amount of force he’d put behind it. Stroking his hands down Newt’s thighs and thoroughly enjoying the greedy little noises, the elder bit down on the same spot once more before digging his nails into flesh.

“You’ve done so well.” Grindelwald murmured, meeting his eyes and scanning for any hint of betrayal. There was nothing but arousal and the swelling of pride at the praise. “I’m proud of you, Newt. You’ve helped far more than you know.”

If he wasn’t getting pleasure out of Scamander frantically wriggling in place, Gellert would have rolled his eyes with how blatantly obvious the desperation for approval was. Honestly, it was like Albus had left him on his doorstep, gift wrapped and personalized with his own monogram.

Leaning back, Gellert was rather intrigued to see that his mark was, in fact, not where Newt said it was.

The pale stretch of thigh he mouthed down was littered in various scars and freckles and not the jagged black lines Gellert had been expecting. No, the beautiful little symbol was tucked away on the inner portion, just above where his underclothes would stop - had the Scamander been wearing any.

It was about as wide as his thumb, surprisingly smooth when he brushed over it despite a rather raised bit of scarring along its right edge. Grindelwald pressed his lips to it, the faint noise somewhere above him giving away just how sensitive the younger was.

“Good boy.” Gellert murmured, reaching for Graves’ wand and giving it a few flicks. Newt whined.

The sound was muffled by Grindelwald’s discarded scarf winding around his head and neck like a snake, tassels dragging over bare skin and making him squirm. Tightening the fabric with another flick, the Scamander stilled, chest heaving with every scant breath and his knuckles going white against the edge of the desk. He smiled against the Hallows’ symbol, biting down hard in the next second. Newt yelped. Or he tried to, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and glancing toward him.

“Look at you.” Gellert stood back with a hand hooked under one of the Scamander’s knees, keeping his voice quiet more for the fact that the younger seemed to melt into it than the fear of getting caught taking their resident British expat apart by the seams when they should have been working on a case. “Breathe, sweetheart. You look stunning like this.”

The flush of red already apparent on the younger’s chest darkened and spread to his ears, Newt slowly coming to relax with Grindelwald’s thumb massaging circles against the soft flesh of his calf. And all it took was a few soft words and complements, no Imperius curse or confusion charms needed. Gellert chuckled. _If only Albus could see him now._

“Touch yourself.” Grindelwald said.

Beneath him, Scamander shifted, finally coming to terms with his rather limited air intake and arching with a thin gasp as one of his hands snaked down at the command. He supposed he could use his borrowed wand for the lubrication spell, but where was the fun in that? Damn thing didn’t even work half the time.

Instead, he flicked the top drawer of the desk open and dug towards the back where he knew Graves kept a little jar of oil hidden amongst the bent pen nibs and scraps of ripped paperwork. The rubber stopper was stubborn with disuse and Gellert eventually had to use his teeth to free the liquid with a huff of frustration, spitting it out onto the floor. It ran slowly down the crease of Newt’s thigh, cold from the way the younger tried to jerk away from it with muffled surprise.

“Absolutely stunning.” He said, more as an afterthought that true praise.

Grindelwald didn’t bother to undress, only unzipping his trousers and unbuttoning his underclothes with a pleased hum before smearing the oil around pale flesh with the tips of his fingers. Scamander watched him through half-lidded eyes, hand still and his breathing ragged, leaning hard into every minute twitch of Gellert’s hand and trying to say something from beneath the silk.

He couldn’t bring himself to care what it was, emptying the rest of the rather small vial into his free hand. He also didn’t bother with the condom sequestered away in the desk drawer.

“Relax,” Grindelwald murmured, a shiver running down his spine when his hand clasped around his member with quick strokes, “this will only hurt for a moment, darling.”

Newt, to his disappointed surprise, didn’t scream.

Gellert kept talking, murmuring words of encouragement and praise and reaching up to wrap the scarf even tighter around the Scamander’s neck. High-pitched, breathless noises reached his ears under the harsh slap of skin on cloth, and the masquerading Dark Lord was fairly certain the teeth of his zipper were leaving red welts where they hit. Even better, the younger’s hands had stopped scrabbling to push him away and were clinging to his shirtsleeves as if the world would stop should he let go.

“There we go, sweetheart, you’ve been so good for me.” He said, leaning over the man to whisper in his ear. Newt’s eyes were closed, squeezed shut with his head lolling back, but he wasn’t crying. Not anymore, since the initial breach was over with.

Gellert’s fingers sought out the Scamander’s hair.

He carded through the wiry red locks, lingering traces of the oil making it shine in the artificial light of the office, and pressed his teeth to the front of the other’s throat. Grindelwald would have liked to have his mark there, visible for everyone to see that the Magizoologist belonged to him - and _only_ to him.

The body around him tightened, rigidly arching in a silent cry and pressing their fronts together far too intimately.

Gellert followed soon after, the flick of his other hand loosening the scarf, and allowed Newt to wrap his arms around the older’s neck. He didn’t immediately remove himself, content to bask in the ever-present pressure as his chin was peppered with hot breath and soft, barely there kisses.

“Beautiful.” Grindelwald said. Newt, breathless and probably dizzy, beamed.

Yes, he was _definitely_ keeping the Scamander. But, first, he had to interrogate Percival Graves about his office habits.


End file.
